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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792403">fistfuls of wildflowers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/pseuds/Bloodsbane'>Bloodsbane</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Ambiguous Relationships, Canon Asexual Character, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Humor, aroace Daisy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:34:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,983</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/pseuds/Bloodsbane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short jondaisy stories.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Alice "Daisy" Tonner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. cuddling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This will just be a collection of short jondaisy things, usually written for prompts on tumblr or twitter! I've written enough of them to justify a fic like this, hehe... I'm really constantly on my shit.</p><p>This first one was for the prompt 'cuddling'!</p><p>Notes:<br/>&gt; canon-compliant, post-coffin<br/>&gt; relationship status: ambiguous</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Daisy’s moods are inconsistent when it comes to touch. Early on, right after the coffin, she couldn’t seem to stand touching much of anything, or anyone for that matter. Even just resting her weight against a wall could only last for a few seconds. Then — a soon as she was able to keep her footing — she’d push away and pace restlessly, never settling. </p><p>It was a little exhausting to watch, but Jon never complained. Nor did he complain in those rare moments where Daisy seemed less averse to touch, though she only ever seemed to touch him. </p><p>It was difficult, at first. Jon never forgot what Daisy did to him and knew he never would. But the way she touched him now was nothing like before. It was hesitant, feather-light. Always asking, very quietly, rather than taking. </p><p>Some days Jon couldn’t handle it, would flinch away on instinct or nonchalantly move so her shoulder was no longer pressed along his. And Daisy never chased him. She never frowned or grumbled. Rather, she’d look away (was she shy?), go back to her pacing, or turn the conversation to something different to occupy their minds. </p><p>It got better, somehow. Slowly but surely. Jon thought about being deep below, trapped on all sides — but not alone. He’d touched her, then. He’d managed to reach out and feel her fingertips. Dry and dirty and cold and bleeding. She’d let him hold her, then; she’d held him back, and she’d been gentle. </p><p>So yeah, it took time.  But now things were very different. </p><p>“I need to get up,” Jon muttered for the third (or forth?) time. Daisy didn’t seem interested in listening to him, though. Which was fair enough, given Jon was still about twenty pages away from finishing his book. It was too late to back down now. So he didn’t really mind her arms around his middle, or her thighs tucked underneath his, or her nose pressing into the back of his shoulder. Her hot breath fell against his back, and that, too, was fine. Her hair tickled the skin it touched and tangled a bit with his own. Jon didn’t mind. </p><p>Every handful of minutes, Daisy would make a low noise in her throat, and Jon knew she would unsettle herself before settling once again. He always had to wonder if that would be the time she pulled away. Sometimes the touching got to be too much for her, even with Jon. But most of the time — well. She remembered the coffin, too. She’d held his hand in hers. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. crying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jon's never sure what to do when Daisy cries.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>from a tumblr prompt: <i>things you said when i was crying</i></p><p>Notes:<br/>&gt; canon-compliant, post-coffin<br/>&gt; relationship status: ambiguous</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p><em>“</em>Do you-?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jon cuts himself off, but Daisy still flinches. Sitting across the office, she’s lost amidst a pile of boxes, scattered files, and various office supplies. Jon’s not sure how half of what’s over in her little corner (and when did it become hers?) even got there in the first place. There’s the decrepit little loveseat that’s been in the office since, Jon can only assume, before <em>Gertrude </em>worked in the archives; a throw pillow of unknown origin, grey and worn with use; Daisy’s phone charger plugged into the wall. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’d been helping him organize things, but that was five minutes ago. Now she’s hunched over a box, her breathing very careful. At first, Jon had pretended not to notice the change. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But this was still so... Well, Jon didn’t know what to expect. He had no idea how to act. What did Daisy want from him, here? Certainly, she couldn’t ask anything of him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And yet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jon wonders if it was the question that made her shiver, despite the fact he cut himself off before anything came of it. The mere memory of static was likely enough. Or maybe it’s the simple fact that she’s crying and trying to hide it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jon licks his lips, staring at Daisy’s tense shoulders. She’s holding her breath. At length, she slowly brings a hand up to her cheek; faintly pink, damp with tears. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m- I’m going to make us some tea,” Jon tells her, and he sounds unsure of himself, but it’s definitely not a question. She doesn’t look at him when he stands and heads out of the office, but a small sound of acknowledgement follows him out the door. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. sleeping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daisy naps in document storage.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>from a tumblr prompt: <i>things you said when you thought i was asleep</i></p><p>Notes:<br/>&gt; canon-compliant, post-coffin<br/>&gt; relationship status: ambiguous</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>Daisy’s half asleep on the cot when she hears voices, muffled, through the thick door. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is she asleep?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think so; went in about an hour ago? She was tired from walking, said her knees were bothering her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ah.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mm.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And... she been doing...?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The voices get quiet. Daisy debates letting herself fall away, but then the doorknob is turning. Her shoulders prickle, unsettled by the fact that she’s facing the opposite wall. But there’s not much to do without immediately giving herself up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s no mystery who comes in: the light but clumsy footfalls scream Jonathan Sims. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hovers by the door, then shuffles over. Interestingly, after just a second of wariness, Daisy feels her body begin to relax again. She’s still breathing evenly when he sits at the very edge of the cot, his lower back just barely pressed against hers. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a while, there’s nothing else; they breathe together in silence. Daisy considers, once again, letting herself go. But she can feel the weight of Jon’s gaze on her (not like before, it doesn’t itch, it’s grounding, it’s wanting), so she waits, curious. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“...I hope you’re sleeping alright. I know- Mm. But it’s better than nothing, I suppose.” A brief pause, then, a little quiet with the hint of a laugh, “Maybe.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stands, taking his warmth with him, warmth that Daisy hadn’t realized she was enjoying. She can’t help the discontent sigh that escapes her, but Jon doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He does make a noise of consideration, though. “It’s cold in here; one sec, I think...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Noise near the foot of the bed; Jon quietly cursing when something falls onto the floor. Daisy almost wants to laugh - he really is awful at anything requiring a modicum of subtlety. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With a triumphant little, “Hah!” Jon seems to find what he’s looking for. A second later, Daisy feels something being draped across her body. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I hope it’s not too heavy,” Jon mutters to himself. There’s a moment of quiet, then a satisfied, “Hm,” before Jon heads out of the storage room. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. camping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jon and Daisy go camping.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For the prompt 'camping'! </p><p>Notes/CWs: <br/>&gt; AU/Ambiguous Setting<br/>&gt; Relationship Status: fwb </p><p>&gt; The very last line implies sexual content.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>These are the things Jon dislikes about camping: <b><br/></b></p><p>The bugs. They’re everywhere, and they seem particularly fond of Jon’s legs, left mostly bare in shorts. Daisy just tells him to stop complaining, and stop scratching. </p><p>(Once their tent is set up and the fire is going, she sits him down and puts some sort of gel on his bug bites. Hands him a tiny can of spray and says he’s on his own from there.)</p><p>The weather. It’s damp in the mornings, always, even when there’s no rain. It makes the leaflitter sticky, makes it so they kick up dirt everywhere. At night, the temperature drops sharply, leaving Jon to shiver under a flimsy sleeping bag.</p><p>(Daisy teases him, says she can hear his teeth chattering. Fishes him out of his bag so they can share hers. It’s not made to hold two people; neither of them minds.)</p><p>The… lack of privacy. No one else is around, Jon feels sure of it. Only the animals, and they don't care what Jon or Daisy get up to.</p><p>(But still. He feels embarrassed when he gets loud in the tent at night before they sleep.) </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. to carry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daisy's observation of Jon during his pregnancy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Notes/CWs:<br/>&gt; AU/Ambiguous Setting<br/>&gt; Relationship Status: Ambiguous<br/>&gt; jon is pregnant here! still transmasc. mostly there's just brief discussion of him being tired/having aches n pains</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re staring again.”</p><p>Daisy’s surprised when Jon speaks, but she doesn’t jump or anything. No, it’s too calm for that, her heartbeat slow and even. Jon’s voice is barely a whisper, more like a sigh, and she’s sure he’s at least half-asleep. But of course he’d be able to feel her looking. </p><p>“I’m not staring,” Daisy says, which is a lie.</p><p>Instead of calling her out on it, Jon asks, “Do you want something?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Hmm…”</p><p>“Go back to sleep.”</p><p>Jon does go back to sleep, one hand on his stomach over the sheets. It seems almost too big for him, even with the modest amount of weight he’s gained over the last few months. Daisy wonders how he’s managed to carry all that around for so long. It’s a question that follows her when she finally turns over and makes herself sleep. </p><hr/><p>“You’re hovering.”</p><p>“No I’m not,” Daisy mumbles, then continues to hover. She’s just behind Jon, close enough that he could jab his elbow into her stomach if he wanted. He’s done so twice on accident, and she wonders if he’ll ever do it on purpose. Sometimes his moods turn dark enough where she doesn’t think he’d mind being rough with her. But for now his left arm remains still, hand settled on his stomach, sometimes drawing small circles over the soft fabric of his too-big shirt. </p><p>“Hand me the olive oil,” Jon commands. Daisy follows, reaching up into the cabinet over Jon’s head with ease. He thanks her with a hum of acknowledgement, taking it with his right hand, drawing more shapes with his left. </p><hr/><p>“Do you want to?”</p><p>“Want to what?” Daisy asks, looking away from the telly. It’s been an hour since Jon passed out next to her on the couch. He hadn’t meant to, but lately he’s been able to fall asleep basically anywhere, at any time, if he gets comfortable enough. Apparently he’s comfortable like this, tucked up against Daisy’s side, her arm on his shoulders, his hands in his lap just beneath his stomach. </p><p>“Touch it,” Jon explains, still mumble-mouthed from sleep. He tilts his head a little, turning until his cheek rests daintily on her chest. “You keep looking at me like you want to.”</p><p>He doesn’t have to specify what <em>it</em> is. Daisy knows, and he knows; what Daisy doesn’t know is her honest answer. </p><p>In the end she says “Sure,” because what else is she going to say? Could she tell Jon <em>no</em> after being directly asked? </p><p>So, with no further hesitation, Daisy lets her arm move down Jon’s back until she can snake her hand around his waist.  Soon enough, her fingertips meet the swell of his stomach through the fabric of his sweater. </p><p>“They’ve been kicking,” Jon informs her, his tone indicating that this is the reason he woke up from his nap. He shifts back a bit, leaning more of his weight against Daisy. With one arm, he grabs Daisy’s hand and drags her palm across the surface. </p><p>After a few seconds of not much happening, Jon grumbles and pulls up the sweater, exposing his stomach and placing Daisy’s hand on a new spot. His skin is warm, warmer than Daisy was expecting, and her fingers twitch the slightest bit. Jon’s fingers press down on hers, directing her, his face a mask of concentration. “They were acting up right over here…” he mumbles. Then they both wait. </p><p>It’s faint, but Daisy feels it when it happens: movement, like a gentle wave beneath her palm. It’s strange. It’s not like anything she’s ever felt before. She has to resist the urge to pull back, instead letting Jon tug her hand along his stomach, searching. There’s the hint of a smile on his face now. “Did you feel it?” he asks.</p><p>“Yeah,” Daisy admits, keeping her voice low. She can smell Jon’s hair with how close they are now — honestly, he needs a shower. But Jon’s natural smell is a good one, in Daisy’s opinion. </p><p>After another minute, Daisy feels a kick again, this one more noticeable. Jon makes the tiniest sound of discomfort, muttering, “Restless,” as he holds Daisy’s hand, his thumb circling one of her knuckles. </p><p>“Does it hurt?” she asks.</p><p>“No worse than any other part of being pregnant.” </p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>They stay like that for a while, with Jon leading Daisy’s hand wherever it needs to go to feel the baby kicking. </p>
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